


A Meeting of Damaged Souls

by MissDoctorDonna



Series: Little Vin [1]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen, No Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5968852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDoctorDonna/pseuds/MissDoctorDonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story tells of how Vin came to join the seven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Meeting of Damaged Souls

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU where Vin Tanner is a child, but the rest of the seven are still adults and peacekeepers in Four Corners. Set after the series ended, so the six adults have known each other about three months. I found it in a forgotten folder. Previously posted on FFN.

Whistling a jaunty tune, Ezra Standish stepped lightly along the street as he headed out on his patrol after a lucky and lucrative night at the poker tables. Under the stern eye of his black clad leader, the gambler carefully fleeced the customers of what was now his mother's saloon. His compatriots had been watching him for the past three months and had come to the conclusion that, whilst he certainly knew how to cheat at cards, he was sufficiently talented as to not need to cheat. Because of this awareness and the fact that he advertised his profession so blatantly as a warning, they were less likely to berate him for his wins. For the most part anyway, as Nathan still accused the gambler of having no morals on occasion causing Josiah to rumble ominously in protective ire. Smirking, Ezra rubbed his chest, as the thought of the ex-preacher's paternal tendencies towards him caused a warm tingling to blossom there. Having never known a selfless parental love, it was not a sentiment that he'd welcomed at first, remembering without any fondness all the other potential father figures he'd had in the past. But after months of Josiah's perseverance, the southerner was finally learning to accept the affection and protection with grace and a form of awkward gratitude. It was nice, after all, to have at least one person in the world be proud of him and his actions.

Rounding a corner to head down the alley between the livery and blacksmith's, he was jolted abruptly from his rumination by the sound of flesh violently striking flesh.

"Git out o' here, ya worthless brat! Don't be comin' back tanight neither! Ain't no room in 'ere for a stupid, snivelling little shit like y'all"

Blinking at the roaring voice, Ezra watched a small form slither from the wagon and race blindly down the alley straight towards him. Catching up the child, Ezra hurriedly spoke to subdue his captive who was fighting with the fury of a cornered cougar cub.

"Hey now, calm down, sweet chile. I'm not going to hurt you. Hush now. I just want to check that you're alright," soothed the gambler, making full use of his dulcet southern accent.

"Let me go. I ain't done nothin' wrong. I's just out fer a walk s'all," protested the wriggling bag of bones in ragged clothes, flailing tiny fists at all they could reach causing Ezra to arch back sharply.

Ezra carried the child into the livery, where there was a lit lamp left on a low burn by the livery owner, Tiny. Holding on with one arm, he grunted as a small bare foot connected with his leg, and turned the wick on the lamp up a little.

"Enough! Now, I'll set you down if you promise me not to run. Do I have your word?"

"Yeah. Jist put me down, Mister."

Carefully placing the child on top of a barrel, Ezra blew out his breath after his struggle and tried to get a better look at the child. Long, dishevelled, dirty, dark blond hair covered most of the child's face. Standing in place with slumped shoulders and clenched fists, the child's chest heaved for breath. Unable to tell if he was looking at a boy or a girl, Ezra lifted a hand to brush back the hair, only to freeze when the child flinched away suddenly.

"There now, I won't hurt you, chile. My name's Ezra P Standish. I work as one of the peacekeepers here in town," crooned Ezra, bending slightly to try and see under the hair. "Won't you tell me your name?"

One brilliant blue eye peered out from the mane of hair to suspiciously assess the man in front of him. Finally, having judged the fancily dressed man with the kind green eyes and gentle voice to be no immediate danger, he replied curtly, "Vin Tanner."

Grinning wide enough to show a glint of gold tooth, Ezra slowly reached forward and took one of Vin's grimy little paws into his hand and shook it gently, saying, "Pleased to meet you, Master Tanner."

A lop-sided smile slowly spread across the waif's face as he drawled back, "Pleased ta meetcha too, Mr Standish. Sorry iffun I hurt ya b'fore. I's afraid yer wasn't friendly."

Releasing Vin's hand, Ezra carefully brushed back the masses of tangled hair and tenderly examined the latest bruise to the tear-stained, dirt-smudged, elfin face revealed. Hiding his rage carefully from the boy, the southerner noted the many bruises and scars on the tiny face, arms and legs of the boy in front of him. The child couldn't be more than seven years of age. The clothes he wore were little more than rags and he had no shoes on his filth-blackened feet, despite the night being a cool one. Seeing the child shiver, Ezra took his scarlet wool jacket off and wrapped it around Vin carefully before picking him up and seating him on his lap as he himself sat on a bale of hay.

"Now then, Vin. Tell me of yourself. Was that your father I heard in the wagon?"

Scowling, Vin huddled further into the wondrous warmth of the jacket, pulling his knees up to try and cover his freezing feet. Still slightly suspicious of why this stranger was being so nice to him, he nonetheless decided to take what he could get before Mr Standish changed his mind. The removal of the jacket had revealed a shoulder holster with a pistol in it and a strange rigging on the man's forearm, which seemed to have another tiny gun in it. Add that to the regular hip holster with yet another pistol in it and Vin was starting to get the idea that this man could be very dangerous. Yet, he felt completely at ease with the southerner, like the man had always been in his life. He hoped that what he was about to disclose didn't result in a withdrawal of the comfort he was currently extending. Taking a deep breath to settle his nerves and gather his courage, he took a chance.

"Nah. That's Mr Wilson. He's tha second husband o' tha third lady ata take me in from tha orphanage. I's a orphan, see. My mama died when I's jist a littlun," explained Vin in a matter of fact tone, despite the pain the words caused him.

Heart contracting with sympathy for the boy, Ezra thought sadly how the child was still a 'littlun' and deserved better treatment. His own experience at the hands of less than savoury carers as a child lent him a unique insight into this young lad's life.

"Mama got sick when I's 'bout four I reckon. I tried ta make her better, giving her tha tea she gived me when I's poorly but it wasn't 'nough 'n she d-died. I's alone wi' her fer a while 'n I's real worried 'bout how I's gonna bury her 'spectable, then some Injun folk who lived nearby come ta visit us like they sometimes did. Stalking Wolf helped me give Mama a proper send off ta tha spirit world. Then he took me home n' said I's his boy now. I lived wi' him 'n Trembling Blossom fer a long time. Then tha damned bluebellies come n' took me 'way. Said I's a white boy 'n had ta live wi' white folk. They hurt Trembling Blossom real bad when she tried ta hold onta me. Dunno what they done ta Stalking Wolf but I's afraid he ain't alive no more," whispered Vin, coming to halt at the painful revelation. It was more words than he'd spoken in years, but he couldn't seem to stop them tumbling past his dry, cracked lips. Lower lip trembling and tears poised tremulously on his lower eyelids, he tried to hold in his pain as he always did. No-one liked a crying kid and he was desperate not to be ejected from Mr Standish's loose embrace.

Seeing the tears welling in the vivid sky-blue eyes, Ezra ran his hand over Vin's matted hair and guided the boy's head to his own broad chest. Holding him tight, the gambler cleared his throat of his own suppressed tears and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Vin."

Sniffing, Vin nodded against the southerner's chest and brought a hand up to clutch at the man's shirt sleeve. Closing his eyes, he let the heartbeat under his ear comfort him. He'd not been held close like this since he'd been taken from his Indian family. Relishing it, he never even noticed when he dropped off into an exhausted sleep.

"Master Tanner? Vin?"

Chuckling when he realised that his young friend had gone to sleep with the abruptness that all small children seemed capable of, Ezra carefully stood up and turned the lamp back down to a low burn. Checking the livery, he gave Chaucer a quick nose rub and a piece of peppermint candy from his pocket, as his horse stuck his head over the stall gate enquiringly. Easily carrying his light passenger on one hip, Ezra continued his rounds and then retired for the night. Rather than disturb the boy with undressing and washing, Ezra simply made up a pallet of blankets and quilts in the clear space under his window and placed the still slumbering child there. Vin whimpered a little at the loss of closeness and warmth, but soon settled back into a deep sleep when Ezra murmured a few quiet words.

Sitting on his bed and gazing down at the innocent child sleeping in the moonlight that spilled in the window, Ezra's thoughts turned dark as he once again noted all the signs of violence and neglect. Sighing, he remembered all the times he'd been hit or beaten as a child. Determined not to return this child to his abusive guardian, the gambler wondered when the Judge was next in town and if he could think of a way to keep the child safe. There were no laws being broken, provided this Mr Wilson was the child's legal guardian he had every right to treat the child however he chose. Ezra knew all too well just how little legal protection was out there if you were a lonely, frightened, abused child. Sighing again, he leaned back against the bed-head and stretched his legs out, removing his cards from his vest pocket and shuffling them thoughtfully.

Chris was eating breakfast at the peacekeeper's regular table with Buck, Josiah, Nathan and JD, when an unusually flustered, rumpled and awake Ezra came flying down the stairs searching the room avidly. Not finding what he was obviously looking for, the gambler dashed towards the kitchen, ignoring the morning salutations of his friends.

"Hey Ez! Where's the fire?"

Raising an eyebrow at Buck's robust shout, Chris finished his meal, unconcerned with the situation and knowing that Ezra would be back in shortly. He'd get the information from the gambler then, no need to let his food get cold.

Returning without success, Ezra asked urgently, "Have any of you seen a small boy, about this high, with blue eyes and a mop of blond hair?"

JD perked up at having information that the gambler needed and hurried to get in before Buck, who had opened his mouth with the intent of asking more questions, saying, "Sure. Boy like that came in on a wagon late yesterday. Man with him asked if he could park his wagon beside the livery and use the facilities out back of it. Tiny said he could. Then the man asked where he could get a drink, so Tiny told him about here and Digger Dan's. I stepped up and asked him who he was and what his business was in town. The man flat out refused to tell me and said it was none of my business, calling me boy. I told him that since I'm the Sheriff, I figure I should know who the new folks are and all, which made it my business. He told me the town must be desperate to have someone so young as a sheriff. Tiny told him that I was good at my job and that I had five men who backed me up. Nice of him, wasn't it? I reckon that took the wind out of the man's sails anyhow, 'cos he told me that his name was Silas Wilson and that he and the boy were travelling from Texas to California to try their luck on the gold fields. I wished him luck and told him that this was the nicer place to drink but he headed for Dan's anyway. Tiny offered to unhitch the horse and take it to a stall but Wilson told the boy to do it. I wasn't sure if he could since he was so small but he didn't seem surprised by the order and seemed to know what he was doin', even though he was so small. Must be used to it, huh? I offered to help, but he just shook his head and said 'no, thanks Mister' real quiet. Nearly didn't hear him. Never did catch the boy's name 'cos Wilson just called him boy. Why're ya askin', Ez?"

Blinking rapidly as he struggled to assimilate the deluge of words at such a godawful early hour, the southerner finally answered, "I met up with the boy on my rounds last night. I was investigating what sounded like someone being hit and found that this Mr Wilson had hit the boy and sent him out into the night, without any consideration or care for the boy's welfare and safety. The boy's name is Vin Tanner, by the way. I took him with me on the remainder of my rounds and then made him a nest of blankets to sleep in on my floor. I must have nodded off and when I awoke, Vin had gone."

"Boy probably didn't want to get left behind and has gone back to Wilson, Ez," offered Buck, wondering why the gambler was so het up. The lanky man knew that Ezra had a soft spot for kids and was awful good with them. Kids seemed to flock to the colourfully dressed man and found him just as fascinating as he found them. But this seemed like he was going out of his way and that didn't seem like the lazy southerner at all. Besides, sad as it was, kids got hit by their parents all the time. You couldn't go barging in on families for disciplining their children.

Slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand, Ezra slumped down into a vacant chair, exclaiming "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?"

"Probably 'cos ya didn't get enough sleep last night, yer up earlier than is usual for ya and ya haven't had any coffee yet," offered Nathan, frowning as viewed the gambler with a critical eye. The man was pale and had dark circles under his eyes. What's more, he looked like he'd lost weight. When had that happened? "Ez, ya feelin' alright? I thought ya got over that headache ya had last week."

"Hmm? Oh fine, I'm fine. Thanks to your latest vile potion, I managed to conquer the megrim within a few days. I find it takes a few more days for my sleeping patterns to re-establish themselves afterwards though," muttered Ezra, far more forthcoming in his current distracted state than he would usually be with the healer. Standing up, he strode out of the Saloon, mumbling, "I'm just going to go and check to see if the wagon is still here."

The other five looked at each other for a second and then rose as one to follow the gambler, curious to meet the child that had provoked such an unusual reaction from their poker-faced friend.

Vin had woken with the sun as was habit with him and looked around curiously. It had been a long time since he'd woken up warm and on a soft surface. Spying the strange Mr Standish sprawled on his bed, fully clothed still and snoring softly, he crept from his blankets and made his way to the door. Pausing, he ghosted his fingers over one of the sleeping man's hands and whispered his thanks. Then he let himself out and went back to Wilson's wagon before the man could awake and find him missing. The angry man often threw him out of the wagon but would become violently enraged if Vin wasn't to hand in the morning.

Silas Wilson was not a happy man. Waking up with a roaring hangover, he had stumbled from the back of the wagon, desperate for some fresh air, coffee and to relieve himself. Tripping on his way out, he fell heavily in the dust and promptly lost the fight against nausea. After emptying his stomach of its sour contents and the painful dry heaves that followed had abated, he stood and flicked the vomit from his hands in disgust. Reaching into the wagon he pulled out a bandanna that he vaguely recognised as something the boy usually had around his neck. Wiping his hands on it, he threw it into the dust and staggered around to the outhouse.

Caring for their horse was Vin's job, whether it was in a livery or not, since it saved on money to care for the creature yourself. The little boy didn't mind though as he loved the big, white blazed black horse. They'd started out from Tascosa with two mules that Vin had named Bart and Rose. But Bart had broken a leg just outside of Galveston and they'd had to shoot him. Rose had pulled the wagon by herself until they got to the next town where Mr Wilson had begrudgingly bought another horse. There weren't many available, especially for small price that the man was willing to pay. Peso's owner had seemed happy to get rid of him and when Mr Wilson had been bitten repeatedly, he knew why. But Peso liked the small boy who treated him gently and spoke to him soothingly, so Vin was unscathed. Then Mr Wilson had had to shoot Rose when she sickened from something she'd been forced by hunger to forage along the trail. Since then, only Peso pulled the wagon and he wasn't really suited to it. Despite Vin's best efforts, the big black had developed sores from where the harness rubbed him, worrying the boy something fierce. Maybe Mr Standish could help him to help Peso.

Rounding the corner after finished up with Peso, Vin was just in time to see Mr Wilson throw his precious bandanna into the dirt. With a muted cry of distress, he flew down the alley and fell to his knees next to the sodden neckerchief, unnoticed by his indifferent guardian. Silent tears oozed down his thin, bruised, dirty face as he stared at one of the last links he had to his parents lying soiled in the dirt.

Ezra had seen the boy's dash and ran after him. Now he stood behind the child and wondered what had happened. Looking around, he didn't see the mysterious Mr Wilson, although his nose wrinkled in disgust as he smelled and saw where the man had been. Kicking dirt over the puddle of vomit, he walked over and squatted next to Vin asking softly, "What's the matter, Vin?"

"M.. M… Ma b…" hiccoughed the distraught child, unable to process the latest assault to his memories. Wiping his nose on his arm, he swallowed hard and managed to say, "H-he used ma bandanna ta wipe his h-hands. 'S all y-yucky now. Gotta wash it."

With that, the child took a deep breath and reached for the cloth, but found his hand clasped by the warm, smooth, soft hand of the southerner before he reached it.

"I'll buy you a new one, Vin. Leave that one," urged Ezra, his face a moue of disgust.

Misery shone from the tear-drenched blue eyes as Vin swung his head up to look at the gambler, unable to find words to express how important that particular neckerchief was to him.

Fortunately, Ezra was a master at reading the body language and eyes of others, so he saw how much the sodden piece of faded fabric meant to Vin. Grimacing, he gingerly picked it up by the least soiled corner and held it far from his body with the tips of his thumb and forefinger. Taking Vin's hand with his free hand, Ezra rose gracefully to his feet, announcing, "Come Vin, we can rinse this at the water pump out back before taking it to the laundress. Mrs Williams will soon have it clean and fresh."

Wiping his face on his free arm, Vin followed Mr Standish dutifully. Relishing the physical warmth of having his small, work-hardened hand engulfed in the larger, softer hand of the gambler, he also committed the feeling of safety and acceptance he got from the gesture to memory. All of the kindness shown to him by this remarkable man were stored in his memory, to be taken out and remembered when the hard times came again.

"Here, Ez, I'll pump the water for you," offered JD, with his usual enthusiasm.

Ezra started a little at JD's loud voice, as he'd not realised that the others had followed him, so focused was he on the child. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the others standing back a little so as not to frighten the boy, who was now standing as close to Ezra's leg as he could. Letting go of his friend's hand, Ezra bent towards the now gushing water and hastily rinsed the neckerchief of the foulness Wilson had wiped on it. Wringing it out, rinsing it again, then wringing it thoroughly, the gambler folded the cloth up carefully. The whole time, Vin split his attention between keeping his eyes on his neckerchief and keeping a watchful eye on the other five men.

Chris was working very hard to keep his temper. How dare someone treat a child so badly! He and Sarah had cherished Adam, treating him with love and kindness, even when he needed discipline. They'd never raised a hand to their child, never even considered it. Grinding his teeth, Chris studied the emaciated boy clinging to their resident gambler's pants, vowing to have words with the boy's guardian. Words that may or may not involve his colt, he thought grimly as the waif's face blurred into Adam's beloved visage.

Glancing over at his oldest friend's face as he heard Chris' sharp intake of air, Buck grimaced at the feral look that was replaced by a forlorn look of longing. The lanky gunslinger knew that Chris often saw Adam in Billy Travis and found it hard to be around the boy sometimes as a result, feeling guilty about what he saw as trying to replace his lost boy with another. Looked like Billy wasn't the only boy to inspire the feeling in the bereft father. Returning his gaze to the tiny boy with Ez, he growled under his breath at the signs of violence and neglect. Suddenly the southerner's reaction made sense.

Nathan was itching to examine the child, knowing that there was things he could do to alleviate the soreness of the bruising and seeing cuts that needed cleaning. Critically assessing the child's weight and height for the guessed age, Nathan wished Ezra would hurry up and introduce them. The boy looked like a wild creature braced for flight at the moment and the healer knew that children found him intimidating, due to his vast height and sturdy build. Sometimes due to his colour also, he thought sadly. It was better to wait and get Ez to ease the child into agreeing to his help.

Whilst everyone else was studying the child, Josiah was studying his 'boy'. Noticing how Ezra's poker face disappeared and his eyes softened when looking at Vin, he chuckled softly and thought how the gambler's heart had been captured by the sad-eyed, elfin-faced boy. Sobering abruptly, he sent up a prayer that his boy's tender heart wasn't about to be broken.

Standing beside the water pump, JD watched Ezra avidly as he washed the neckerchief. The fastidious gambler must truly care for the child if he was willing to touch something so foul. Also, there was the way he held the grubby paw of the boy without making any indication that he'd noticed the filth. Fascinated, but sensing that his eagerness and non-stop questions and chatter wouldn't be welcomed, JD tried to be satisfied with observing his friend and the boy. The child looked like a lot of the kids he'd seen on the streets of Boston, orphaned by disease or abandoned due to poverty, they banded together and ran in packs. He thanked God every day that his mama had lived as long as she did, or he could easily have ended up as one of them.

"Thank you, JD, that was most helpful of you," said Ezra, standing up straight and laying a hand protectively on Vin's skinny shoulder, noting how the boy was all but hiding behind him. Drawing him out a little, he squatted down and put an arm around Vin, saying, "No need to be frightened, Vin. Gentlemen, this is Vin Tanner. Vin, these are friends of mine and fellow peacekeepers of Four Corners. That big, grey-haired fellow is Josiah Sanchez - you can talk to him about anything and can usually find him in the church. The tall, black man next to him is Nathan Jackson - if you ever hurt yourself or fall sick, then you go to his room above the clinic and he'll help you feel better. Then there's the man with the moustache, he's Buck Wilmington and he's usually with the long-haired fellow who manned the pump for us, JD Dunne. Both of them are lots of fun and are the ones to go to if you want the best fishing holes. Last, but certainly not least, is the rather scary looking blond man. He's our leader and his name is Chris Larabee. Now he may bark and growl, but if anyone hurts you or scares you, you just find Chris and he'll protect you. Alright?"

Shyly nodding to each of the men, Vin stayed within the shelter of the gambler's arm.

Charmed by the lop-sided smile and shyly offered 'Pleased ta meetcha', each man nodded back and uttered a salutation of their own. They also noted that the southerner's usual prolixity had been curtailed, in deference to the child's lack of education presumably. Also noted was the fancy man's description of each of them. It wasn't often that Ezra gave much away about how he felt, certainly not about what he thought of his friends. It had taken months of growling and requests for him to stop calling them by their surnames, before he'd finally begun calling them by their given names. in fact, he'd only begun using their given names and relaxing into their strange little family after he'd saved Mary Travis from an assassin's bullet.

Accepting all he'd been told about the men, Vin relaxed slightly. Still slightly unsure about the scowling Mr Larabee, he figured he must be safe if Mr Standish said so. Knowing he wouldn't be in the town long enough to talk to Mr Sanchez, or get his hurts seen to by Mr Jackson, or go fishing with Mr Wilmington and Mr Dunne, he nonetheless knew that if by some miracle he got to stay that he'd be going to Mr Standish to talk and get his hurts tended. He didn't think Mr Standish looked like someone who liked to fish, but he loyally thought that his friend would be able to fish if he so chose. Gazing at Ezra, his eyes glowed with a small boy's hero worship. Something that was viewed with varying degrees of amusement by the other five men.

"Where have ya been, boy! Damn glue bait animal ain't gonna hitch itself ter tha wagon. Stop wasting tha time o' these men and git ta work. We's heading out, soon's I git some food," bellowed Wilson from where he'd emerged from the outhouse. Shocked to see the boy surrounded by a group of heavily armed men, he nervously noted their disapproving scowls when he shouted at the boy. He'd been told of the town's peacekeepers at Dan's last night and had no desire to get caught up with them. It was definitely time to move on.

Ezra felt as Vin jumped violently at the sound of his guardian. Before he could stop the child, Vin had dashed for the back of the livery, hurrying to obey orders. Standing, he turned and scowled at the slovenly man coming towards him. About to confront him, he stopped as he felt Josiah's large hand squeeze his shoulder hard.

"Son, there's nothing more you can do. Vin belongs to Mr Wilson, who can do as he pleases with the boy," warned the ex-preacher in a whisper.

"But..."

"Josiah's right, Ez," agreed Buck sadly, "You know that shit rolls downhill too, so if ya have words with Wilson, it will just make him hurt the boy more when they leave."

Feeling like his heart was being torn from his chest, Ezra nodded forlornly and made his way into the livery.

"Brothers, shall we go back to the saloon and wait?"

Buck nudged Chris away from where he was drilling holes in Wilson's back, saying, "Might as well, 'Siah. Ain't much we can do but wait and try to put Ez back together after Wilson leaves with Vin."

Trudging back to the Saloon, none of them noticed JD break off and run over to the Potter's Store.

Ezra watched as Vin talked to a huge black horse, getting the animal to bend his head down so the child could fit his bridle. Unable to stand hearing the boy's sobbed breaths, Ezra rushed forward and scooped him up into a tight embrace.

Vin wrapped his arms and legs around Mr Standish and held on tight, imprinting the man's scent and the feeling of security into his very soul. Shuddering with silent sobs, he clung on as Ezra carried him outside, leading an unusually compliant Peso behind him.

JD met the grieving pair outside and took Peso from the gambler to hitch the horse to the wagon. When it was done, he went to stand beside where Ezra still held a silent boy.

"Uh, I wasn't sure if you'd want 'em, but I got ya some hard tack and jerky to take with you, Vin," said JD, offering the boy a bandanna wrapped parcel. He was pretty sure that Wilson would find it and take it away from the boy, but felt he had to make the effort. Seeing the gratitude shining from both blue and green eyes made him glad that he had.

Reluctantly indicating that the southerner should return him to the ground, Vin took the parcel and murmured his thanks. Then glancing around quickly, he slid under the wagon to secrete the food in his special place. He'd managed to nail a small flat wooden box under the bed of the wagon, where he kept any food he managed to get, his threadbare blanket, his grandpa's spyglass, and his pa's harmonica. Suddenly his Mama's bandanna appeared in front of him and he saw Mr Standish squatted by the wagon and stretching his arm underneath. Tucking the still wet neckerchief into a corner of the box, he quickly shut it securely and crawled out.

Running his hand over the tangled hair lovingly once more, Ezra spoke softly, "If you ever need me, you send me a telegram. I'll come for you."

"Won't have no money fer no telegrams, Mr Standish, but it's right kind o' ya ter offer," replied the distraught boy, daring to reach out and cling to the gambler's hand.

"I put some money in the bandanna, Vin, but if you have to get them to reverse the charges. I'll accept."

Nodding, despite knowing he'd never take the man up on his generous offer, Vin blinked back tears and said fervently, "Cain't thank yer enough, Mr Standish."

Wilson strode around the corner, full of breakfast and eager to be getting away from so many law dogs. Throwing a biscuit at the boy, he growled, "Git on, boy, we's wastin' daylight."

Catching the biscuit from habit, Vin scrambled up into the back of the wagon. Ezra and JD walked out of the alley behind the slow moving wagon, watching Vin's tear streaked face crumple as he waved miserably to them. They went over to stand with the other's in front of the Saloon, all of them giving a wave to the boy.

Josiah stretched a long arm around Ezra and pulled his boy into a one armed hug. Ezra hugged himself and tried to quell the urge to saddle up and ride out after Vin. When the wagon was lost from sight, Ezra sniffled and stalked into the Saloon where he grabbed a bottle of redeye. Exchanging worried looks at the gambler's unusual disregard for the quality of his liquor, the others joined him.

It had been a week since a small ragamuffin boy had come to Four Corners, touching the hearts of the seven regulators and leaving again, taking all the life and laughter of their gambler with him. Ezra went about his duties, smiling and tipping his hat to folk as he always had, spending his off duty hours at the poker tables as usual, but it was as though he was simply going through the motions. The easy laugh and charming chatter was gone and he was often found on the porch of the Saloon staring out at the horizon where he'd last seen Vin. His friends were all worried for him and showed it in their own ways. Josiah dragged him to the church to help him sand pews and to keep him occupied. Nathan fussed over his weight loss and insomnia, forcing him to drink different potions. Buck and JD joked and prattled around him, trying to entice him into plans for pranks on the others. Chris was silent, but often slid a shot glass of whiskey across to his troubled friend.

The stage from Eagle Bend rattled in and was greeted by Chris, Buck and JD. Joe, the driver, yanked mightily on the brake and yelled down, "Mr Larabee, glad yer here. Ran into some trouble on the way"

Brow furrowed, Chris stepped down off the porch and walked over to the coach, asking, "What sort of trouble, Joe? And is it headed this way?"

"Would someone open the door and release me from this insufferable situation," called a strained but refined southern voice, that sent chills of apprehension down the backs of all.

"Maude," breathed Buck and Chris in dread, at the same time JD squeaked, "Mrs Standish."

"Lord, Ezra does NOT need this at the moment," groaned Buck, taking his hat off to run a hand through his thick hair before crushing his hat back on.

"Nope," agreed Chris Drily, wondering if he could nail the doors of the stagecoach shut and wave it on with Ezra's mother still inside.

JD had gone to open the door, standing back and waving his hand in front of his face in disgust, saying, "What the heck is that stink?"

Stepping daintily from the stage with a lace-trimmed handkerchief held over her mouth and nose, Maude Standish replied haughtily, "THAT would be the trouble, Mr Grimson was alluding to, I believe. Now, if someone would kindly bring my luggage, I desperately need to bathe."

"Mother?"

"Ah, Ezra my darlin' boy, please see to mah things," simpered Maude, air kissing her stunned son who'd just appeared from the direction of the lievry, even as she eyed him critically. Leaning in, she hissed, "Whatever have you done to yourself? Why, you haven't even shaved. Appearances are everything, Ezra!"

Ignoring his mother's displeasure from long practice, Ezra joined his friends at the door of the stage. Used to the smell of death, after his service during the late unpleasantness and his current duties, he grimly pulled the blanket away to reveal the bloated, decaying face of none other than Silas Wilson. Wilson's white filmed, flat eyes stared out balefully at them, as Ezra pulled the blanket further back to see that the dead man's head was skewed in a grotesque position indicated a thoroughly broken neck. Seeing no further shrouds and no other people in the coach, Ezra dropped the blanket back in place and stared at Chris in a panic, crying, "Vin! Where's Vin?"

As though sensing trouble, Josiah and Nathan had appeared and all of the peacekeepers and some of the locals crowded around Joe demanding answers. Putting his fingers to his lips, the driver issued a piercing whistle that cut through the babble. Looking down from his perch, he told everyone, "We came across a rolled wagon 'bout halfway 'twixt Eagle Bend and here. Weren't nuthin' we could do for that fella 'cept bundle 'im up and bring 'im here fer a decent burial."

"Was there a boy? Did you look for anyone else?"

"Nope, no-one else there. Not even a horse. Tracings was broke, so the horse musta busted free and run off. Now can ya offload the fella and take the luggage? I got a schedule ter keep ta and all o' this has put me way behind," grumbled Joe, gesturing to his shotgun driver to get the luggage offloaded.

Standing around the body of Silas Wilson after he'd been taken to the undertaker's, Nathan gave it a studied look and said, "Reckon he's been dead a good couple of days."

"If this happened days ago and Vin wasn't in the wreckage, then he's either walked out or taken the horse and ridden out," Chris theorised. Josiah had a firm hold of Ezra, who was all for saddling up and going out to search for Vin immediately. "Reckon, either way, he'll head back here."

"If he was going to head back here, he'd have been here by now on horseback or the stage would have seen him if he were on foot. He's probably injured and confused, Chris, and frightened. He's just a little boy! We have to go find him and if all y'all won't help me, then I'll go on my own," declared Ezra, wrenching away from Josiah and running for the livery. The others sighed and ran after him.

Buck called after the fleet-footed gambler, "Now Ez, you know we're all gonna help ya, but we can't just go racing off without the facts. And we need supplies and Nate needs his bag, in case the little tike is hurt. So slow down, hoss, and ..."

All six of them had ground to a halt at the unexpected sight of Chanu standing at the back door of the livery. He held a rope that was tied to a tired, dusty, blaze-faced, black horse.

Rushing forward, Ezra ran his hands over the big horse, who half heartedly tried to nip at the man. There were several patches of goo on the horse, where Chanu had applied a soothing paste to sores and cuts. Bandages had been applied to one of the horses front legs and they could see the horse favouring that leg.

Seeing the questions in the green eyes that stared at him, Chanu told him, "I found this horse wandering in the desert, still with bits of harness on him. I brought it here to see if you were missing anyone."

"Chanu, a small boy is missing. There was a wagon accident and the man driving it was killed. Can you track for us? I'd be willing to pay you for your time," pleaded the southerner, knowing that no matter how good at tracking Buck and Chris were, Chanu was a hundred times better. Despite their rather hostile first meeting, the two men had managed to overcome their differences, thanks largely to Josiah's interference and to Ezra's efforts at teaching the Seminole children to read and write.

Nodding, Chanu waited whilst Peso was passed into the care of Tiny and the six peacekeepers had saddled their horses and filled their canteens. JD saddled Nathan's horse whilst the healer ran up to pack a bag with everything he thought he'd need. Two of Tiny's sons filled their many canteens.

The men found the overturned wagon easily enough. Going over the contents, they removed a small tin with around fifty dollars and a pocket watch in it, but there were no other valuables and no sign of Vin.

Ezra emptied the box under the wagon of Vin's treasures and packed them carefully into his saddlebags, along with the tin that Buck handed him, saying dolefully, "Vin is definitely injured in some way, or he'd have taken these himself."

Chanu had been circling around the accident site and called over to the men, "This way!"

Having ridden for three hours, they stopped to rest the horses, speaking quietly amongst themselves and sending concerned glances towards Ezra, who was uncharacteristically agitated. Pacing by the horses, the southerner kept glancing at the sun and muttering about wasting time. Chris smirked, despite the seriousness of the situation. Normally, Ezra was the cool, calm and collected one and he was the one pacing and muttering impatiently.

After a further hour in the saddle, they'd reached a rocky outcrop and had to ground tie the horses and walk. Suddenly, Chanu stopped and held a finger to his lips to silence any questions. All of the men strained their hearing and listened for whatever had alerted their tracker. Just as they all recognised what they were hearing, Ezra gave a soft cry and bolted. After a few stunned moments, the rest followed and found the gambler on his knees, clutching Vin in his arms. The sounds they'd heard had been the trickle of a tiny spring and the soft sobbing of an exhausted, injured, terrified child,

Nathan knelt by his friend and ordered gently, "Let me see him, Ez."

Ezra tried but Vin wailed breathlessly and tightened his hold on his saviour, unwilling to be parted. Throwing an apologetic look at the healer, Ezra went back to rocking and soothing the overwrought boy.

Satisfying himself by examining the parts of the boy he could get at, Nathan tutted at what he found. The trek had left Vin's bare feet bloodied and torn, his wrist looked broken, there was a large bloody lump on the side of his head and his shirt was stuck to his back with dried blood. Sitting back on his heels, he announced, "Much as I'd like to fix him up here, I reckon we's best to get him on back to town. He needs a bath something fierce to wash out all these wounds properly, then I can wrap everything. I'll just splint up his wrist and we'll go."

"We're not far from my village, so I will go home. I'm glad you found your lost one," replied Chanu, clasping the forearm of first Ezra and then Chris. Waving away Ezra's money, he placed a hand lightly on the back of Vin's head and leaned down to whisper so softly that only Vin and Ezra heard, "You're home now, little warrior. Come visit me when you've healed and we'll go hunting."

Sniffling, Vin turned his head to one side on Ezra's shoulder and smiled at Chanu, whispering his thanks.

Setting Vin's wrist and splinting it was unpleasant, but Vin bore it well. He had been wrapped in a blanket and was now riding in front of Mr Ezra, going back to Four Corners, his eyes dull with fatigue and shock. When they passed the wagon, he buried his head in Ezra's chest to avoid seeing it. The whole way home, he didn't utter a word, which worried Ezra greatly until Nathan pointed out it was probably the shock.

Tiny met them at the door of the livery with his sons, taking the horses from them and promising to look after them. Thanking him, Ezra and Nathan headed for the clinic with Vin still clinging to the gambler, whilst Josiah went to the restaurant for food for them all, Buck and JD went to the bathhouse to borrow a small tub and some warm water, and Chris went to satisfy Mary's curiosity.

Soon Vin was sitting in a tub of warm, soapy water for the first time since before his mama had died. Oh, he'd had baths in tubs since then but they'd been cold, quick and used lye soap that stung your eyes and made your skin burn. Even though this soap hurt his cuts a little, on the whole it smelled real nice and the warm water felt real good on his bruises and his back. The men around him had gone awful quiet when they'd taken his clothes off him, so he'd kept his head down and waited for them to kick him out now that they saw what a bad boy he was. But instead, Mr Ezra had lifted him into the tub real gentle like he might break and then dowsed him with water and started washing him with a soft cloth. They'd had to change the water a couple of times for fresh already, 'cos of all the dirt and blood.

Wiping tears from his eyes with his shoulder, Ezra concentrated on trying to wash and untangle Vin's hair. The boy's narrow back was covered in old scars and fresh, bloody welts from being beaten with a strap or belt. Every rib and bone stuck out on the malnourished child and there were bruises on bruises.

"Nathan, do you have any scissors? I'm going to have to cut his hair. It will be easier and less painful," said Ezra, sighing in defeat at the gnarled mat of fine hair in his hands.

A tiny noise of distress was issues by the child in front of him, prompting Ezra to ask, "What is it, Vin? Is something hurting more?"

A minute head shake was the only response, so Ezra shifted around to kneel beside the tub and tilted Vin's head up by lifting his chin with a finger. Raising an eyebrow, he waited patiently.

"Ma... Mama l-liked my hair l-long. Said it 'minded her o' my Pa," whispered Vin tearfully. "S'all I got left ta remind me of 'em."

Bowing his head, Ezra took a long slow breath and let it out again. Looking up helplessly at the others, he put an arm around the boy and rested his chin lightly on the soapy head for a moment. Then he straightened and carefully wiped Vin's face free of any soap trails, tilting his head back again to look him in the eye. Solemnly, he told the sad, little boy, "I understand why it's important to you, but I have to cut it to get the tangles out. It will still hang to your shoulders though and you can grow it back out, provided you take care of it. Alright?"

Heaving in a deep breath, Vin nodded bravely.

After a tense half hour, Ezra had managed to de-tangle Vin's hair whilst leaving it long enough to just clear his shoulders. Removed from the bath, dried and wrapped in a towel, Vin then had to endure the pain of having his broken wrist rewrapped, his cuts cleaned and in some cases stitched, his broken rib was wrapped and a soothing, healing balm was rubbed on his cuts and bruises. Nathan had dosed him with willow bark tea, whilst the boy was still soaking, but the treatment still hurt despite the tea's numbing effect. The face pulled by the tiny child made everyone chuckle, especially when Vin asked if there were dead skunks involved in the drink's making.

Vin's hair was dried and combed back, and he'd proudly donned a pair of new long johns. They were actually hand-me-downs donated by Mary Travis, but they were clean, soft, warm, in good condition, a good fit and new to him so Vin was a happy kid. Wrapped in a quilt that smelled of lavender - donated by Mrs Potter - he sat on Mr Ezra's lap and allowed the man to spoon feed him a small bowl of rich, beef broth. Then he drank another cup of truly horribly tea, followed by a peppermint to get rid of the taste of what he declared to be boiled skunk water to the renewed amusement of the men. Now he sat on Mr Ezra's lap in a rocking chair, warm and clean, feeling safe and well fed for the first time in years. Yawning widely, he nestled down in the quilt so he could hear Mr Ezra's heartbeat better.

"Is he asleep?" Chris asked quietly from where he sat by the window.

"Yes, he's out like a light," answered Ezra, smiling softly as he ran his hand over the now clean curls lovingly.

Pain tightened Chris' chest as he had to look away from the vivid reminder of his own loss. Staring disconsolately out into the night, he said, "Mary says the Judge'll be here day after tomorrow. I'm sure he'll know of some nice couple who'll want him."

"That won't be necessary," whispered Ezra, rocking gently, "I'm keeping him."

Nobody was surprised by this statement. Anyone with eyes could see that the gambler loved the boy and that the boy adored the gambler. Still Chris felt obligated to point out, "What about your job? Who'll stay with the boy when we're chasing down idiots who think they can break the law? What about school? What about when you get hurt on the job? What if you get killed? We don't lead safe lives? And this town still ain't the most civilised town. Boy could get hit by stray lead, run down by a wagon, or taken by someone with a grudge or looking for leverage..."

Chuckling without any humour, Ezra halted his friend's list of catastrophes with a raised hand and replied, "Chris, the child has already lost his father to God knows what, his mother to disease, his first adoptive parents to murder and bigotry, then been abused and neglected by various foster parents, before losing his last guardian - and I use the term quite loosely - to an accident. There's no such thing as stability in this life, so you have to take love where and when you can. Now, I'm an educated man and am quite capable of schooling the boy in his letters, numbers and history. In fact, I've already been instructing Gloria Potter's children and the children at the Seminole village on a semi regular basis. Vin would greatly enjoy learning about tracking and nature from Chanu, as would any little boy. I'm sure Gloria and I can come to an arrangement to mind Vin when I'm called on to perform my duties, or indeed Inez would probably come to my aid. Every boy needs a Grandmama, and I can't see Maude rising to the challenge, so I may ask the wizened crone if she's interested. I believe Nettie Wells and Vin would get on like a house on fire. He'll have four uncles to protect him in you, Buck, Nathan and JD. Since Josiah will persist in his paternal attentions towards me, I guess that will make him Vin's Grandpa. A mixed bag of family, but family doesn't start and finish with blood as you well know."

Buck, JD, Nathan and Josiah burst into muffled laughter at the rueful look on the dark clad leader's face, mindful of the slumbering child.

Glaring at his friends, Chris finally cracked and chuckled too, admitting, "Sounds like you've got it all figured out. What about where you're going to live? Can't bring the boy up over a saloon."

Frowning, Ezra was about to reply when Buck beat him to it.

"Don't see why not, Stud. Can't be worse than a brothel and I think I turned out pretty good. Ole Ez here saw the inside of a lot of saloons when he was just a tiny shit he'd he's turned out okay too. 'Sides, if Vin's in a room over the Saloon, then we're right downstairs at night iffun he needs us. Easy for Ez to run up and check on him at night too," argued the moustached man.

Nodding his agreement, Ezra continued, "My room is quite spacious, but the smaller room next to it is empty should I need to expand and provide Vin with his own space. I can always have someone install a connecting door. But I think after everything he's been through, I'd like to keep him close for now. Perhaps, Josiah could make a bed for him that can be installed in my room?"

"I'd be glad to, son. I'll get started on it tomorrow," said Josiah happily. "Then I'll make hchest box for his stuff too."

Nodding to the older man and smiling his thanks, Ezra stood and announced, "I'm going to put Vin to bed, gentlemen. I'll see you all on the morrow."

"Wait a minute, Ez, Vin should stay here in case he gets a fever..."

Looking back from where he stood at the clinic door, Ezra smiled and answered, "I have tea for fever, Nathan, and if it becomes worrying I can always bring him back. But I think it's important to start establishing a routine for the lad. Lord knows, he's had precious little he could count on in life so far. Being able to wake up in his new home with me will be the first thing he can count on."

Buck had moved to help Ezra with the door and followed him out, hoping to convince Molly to share her room with him tonight.

Nathan scowled at the dismissal of his concerns for a moment before turning to Josiah as the older man cleared his throat.

A smug grin sat on Josiah's face as he observed, "Boy sure looked content in Ezra's arms, didn't he?"

Nodding thoughtfully, Nathan had to agree.

"And ole Ez sure looked happy with Vin tucked up on his lap," observed JD blithely.

A slow grin worked its way across Nathan's face as he remembered the look on the gambler's face.

Standing and walking to the door with his spurs jingling, Chris pulled one of his cigars out and rolled it between his thumb and finger thoughtfully, saying, "Boys. I think life round town just got a mite more interesting. Can't wait to see what Maude has to say."

In his room, Ezra had laid Vin on his bed, still wrapped in his quilt. Despite a faint mewl of protest, the exhausted boy slept on. After checking the locks were drawn and stripping himself of his armoury, Ezra completed his nightly ablutions and changed into his nightshirt before turning the quilts back. Moving Vin in under the blankets, he smoothed out the boy's quilt which was clutched tightly in tiny fists. Getting into bed, he pulled the covers over them both. Turning on his side, the gambler ran a finger lightly down the cheek of the slumbering child. His child. His Son. A fluttering warmth filled the southerner as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Vin's forehead, whispering, "Sleep well, son. You're home now."

The End


End file.
